Second Chance
by FoxAircurrent
Summary: After being killed by Megatron, Dreadwing is given a second chance to live. Though with an unexpected twist.
1. Intro

_Where am I? _

_ Floating through the inkiness, a soft pulse drew him nearer._

_What is that?_

_ The wall of mellow colors pulsed again and brought him near. The swirling mass flattened, becoming a screen of sorts, showing his memories, his feelings, his death and he slowly regained his consciousness. _

_What do you want? He all but cried out. Though it was more of a collection of his thoughts than his voice. _

_ The wall of swimming colors pulsed once more, and the scene on the wall changed in a flash of blue. It showed another memory, one of his brother, healthy, smiling at him with his usual coyness. With another flare of blue it changed to the image of watching his brother stagger through the Shadowzone, a thoughtless creation of Unicron._

_Skyquake... he breathed. What do you want? He called again, his rage building. I realize he is never going to join me, now, what are you?_

_ The mass swirled in a circular motion before showing a clear picture of his brother._

_He shook his helm confused. I don't understand._

_ The floating vortex flared in a bright flash. _

_He cried out as the blinding light consumed him and everything faded back into the previous blackness. _


	2. Chapter 1

A soft groan escaped him and he took in a raged breath, expecting the horrendous pain he felt when he passed. He felt nothing though. Confused, his optics onlined and he found himself sprawled out on the floor. It was a different area that what he died in, in a darker, less clean part of the ship. He was still on the _Nemesis_ though.

_ Where the slag am I? _He groaned and struggled to get up. He emitted a screech like yelp as he surged to his feet, then collapsed onto his face. Blinking heavily, he realized when he stood, he was standing on all fours. Baffled, he rolled over to his side and looked down at himself, emitting a squawk of surprise when he saw the armour and legs beneath him._ An Insecticon. How the slag did I become an Insecticon? _His remaining consciousness returned slowly as well as the events he still considered a dream, only further muddling his thoughts.

Focusing his confused thoughts, Dreadwing managed to get to his, paws. He huffed softly, forcing up dust and debris he felt grinding in his vents. He looked around the dank, ill-scented area, able to see everything though it was nearly pitch black. Seeing the unmoving heaps of Insecticon bodies, he realized he was in the area of the ship the dead Insecticons were placed until they were smelted. He blinked repeatedly. Primus, or whoever the slag did this placed him in an Insecticon's frame. Why? Had the Insecticon that passed take his frame? Dreadwing shook his aching helm, shuddering inwardly at the thought of such a disgusting creature in his body. Well he couldn't really call them disgusting any longer, now that he was one himself.

He took a step forward, only to wind up on his face once more. With an annoyed growl escaping his vocalizor, he forced himself back up, realizing walking on four legs was more difficult than what it appeared. He ignored all thoughts and concentrated on walking. It took a long time to get to the door of the room and, thankfully, it swished open. He knew he looked overenergized doing so, stumbling and staggering every few steps but eventually he got the hang of walking like an Insecticon. He stumbled through the doorframe, his optics widening at the site before him. He had never really come down to the Insecticon horde's living area, knowing the beings were here only because Megatron was desperate to have them. Plus, he always figured the creatures were in their stasis pods or hanging to the ceiling until called for, but that was not the case.

The pods were all but ignored in the corners of the expansive, and very clean, room and only very few Insecticons rested on the ceiling. Most were relaxing on the floor, lying or walking as they conversed with one another in their own unique language. He understood them, surprisingly and he had a feeling he could speak their tongue as well. Other members of the horde surrounded what could only be descried as an elder, with the large mech telling the younger creatures stories of his youth. His helm turned instinctively to the direction of a sharp, high pitched cry of distress coming from a sparkling Insecticon. Dreadwing never thought the creatures to have families, or even breed, but the little Insecticon being cleaned by what looked to be its mother disproved his theory.

Shaking his helm, he broke himself from his thoughts and slowly made his way towards the exit of the room. His former programing told him to leave the area and the ship immediately and he followed the instincts leading him out of the horde's bay. He took in a deep intake after exiting the Horde's territory, relaxing with the drop of the number of scents that made his helm ache. He could smell Starscream, yearning to stalk the mech down and kill him, the scrawny Seeker was probably boasting about his death right now, but Dreadwing knew he could not take the mech on. Not yet, at least. He was too weak to fight at the moment, he couldn't walk properly yet and he was starving. He wasn't sure exactly how Insecticons ate, but he figured he would find out.

He took in another deep intake and breathed in the scent of the energon being manufactured. His tanks rumbled and he was suddenly hit with a severe dizziness that could only be explained by his growing hunger. Dreadwing briefly wondered if the Insecticon starved to death, if he died from lack of energon. Pushing away his thoughts, he walked slowly towards the manufacturing area, making sure his steps were somewhat even and looked normal. He entered nervously, knowing he could possibly be attacked or killed. In his real frame, he would have no worry entering the room, but being an Insection meant he was restricted to the lower bays which he had just come from. Silently, he slipped forward and grabbed a couple freshly processed energon cubes in his denta. He retreated from the area and found a quiet, empty storage room in which he could eat. He tore open the cubes, one at a time, and lapped up the energon, savoring the taste of the fresh energon. Nudging the remains of the torn cubes away, Dreadwing settled down. He used his clawed paws to help clean off his face and shifted to get comfortable. With higher energy levels, his frame began to relax from the stress and slowly he fell into recharge.


	3. Chapter 2

Dreadwing woke early the next morning, earlier than he would wake in his original frame. The urge to leave the ship far behind still nagged in the back of his new processor but the urge to refuel outweighed the want to leave. He returned to the energon manufacturing room and stole a couple more cubes, gulping them down in the storage room he recharged in as he plotted his escape. Dreadwing knew the Nemesis well and if he was in his previous frame he wouldn't worry about leaving, but he wasn't sure if he could transform or fly. Shoving the remains of the cubes to the side, he left the storage room, nearly running into Starscream.

"Watch where you're going you disgusting beast." The silver Seeker hissed, backing up so he wouldn't touch Dreadwing. The newly changed Insecticon struggled not to attack the scrawny Seeker. He was out gunned in this form, at least until he regained his strength. Instead of lunging at Starscream's throat, Dreadwing backed up a small amount and the Seeker passed, muttering beneath his breath about how unintelligent Insecticons were. Dreadwing ignored the comment and returned to his goal, leaving the ship. Dreadwing knew he wasn't very far from the flight deck, where the Seeker drones were sent out, but he still didn't know if he could transform, or fly.

Taking in a sharp breath, Dreadwing searched his CPU for the transformation sequences. He was somewhat relieved to find them and, taking in another deep vent, he initiated them. He fought a surprised squawk as his armor twisted and writhed, falling into place as some sort of moth-like insect, as the humans called it. Transforming in this form felt strange to him, as if, deep in his processor his instincts knew Insecticons didn't transform as often as their two-legged counterparts. Reigning in his thoughts, Dreadwing focused on walking. If walking on four legs and having small mandibles off to the side of his face was bad, having to move six legs in a precise order and struggling to retain his oversized glossia within the confines of his mouth was worse. Still, he managed to get to the flight deck with no other run ins with the Decepticon forces and very few tripping occurrences.

He shook himself as the brisk night air enveloped his frame upon exiting the Nemesis. Blinking slowly, Dreadwing took in a deep breath, savoring the scents of the open air and enjoying the wind rushing past his opaque wings as the large ship moved beneath him. He gazed slowly into the sky, his optics focusing on the stars so far away. He remembered countless times when he and his brother would look to the stars and converse on any subject. He recalled the swirling mass of colours, and its showing of his brother. He wondered if that was why whoever brought him back did so. So he could give his brother peace. Dreadwing's jaw tightened at the thought, a mixture of emotions passing through him as he thought of releasing his brother from the eternal torment. He was unsure that he would return with his brother and her certainly had no idea how he was going to get his brother from the Shadowzone.

Tearing his gaze from the sky and fond memories of his brother, Dreadwing reminded himself of why he was on the flight deck. He needed to get off the ship before Soundwave discovered an Insecticon was where it shouldn't be, if the speechless 'Con hadn't already. Huffing lightly, the blue armoured mech focused on flying, and within a few moments, his wings began to buzz lowly. Focusing further, his felt his paws lift from the metal floor and panic set in as the deck passed beneath him. The lack of concentration sent him crashing to the deck not far from the edge. Forcing himself to his feet, he shook himself and let out a stressed grunt. Digging his claws into the deck, he focused solely on flying, and once more, his wings flared to life with a deep buzzing. It was deeper this time, more powerful and Dreadwing released his hold from the ship. He hovered above the large, flying mass of metal for a time, watching as his safety net glided away soundlessly.

Offlining his optics, Dreadwing allowed his programing to take hold and guide his flight. He made notes of the flight, the tilt of his wings as he declined slowly, the slant of the delicate wings as his frame rose with the thermals, and finally the angle the wings were held at to hover. Onlining his optics, Dreadwing found himself hovering a few feet above the earth. Narrowing his optics, he hovered for a few short moments, trying to figure out how to land. Tipping his wings downward slightly, he lowered to the earth, but too swiftly. He lost control and ended up crashing into the earth. Grunting lightly. He transformed into what could only be described as a robot form. Dragging himself to his feet, he shook himself free of the dirt and debris clinging to his armour. He checked himself by instinct, making sure his frame was unharmed. Gazing quietly at the horizon, he sat and watched the sun rise fully, then stood, returning to his trek with the sun on his back.

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AN: I apologize for not having one in the past few chapters, I'm still a bit of a newbie on this site. I'm used to dA's way of things... Anyway, this idea was roaming my head for a while and I decided to write it. I don't know why I had this idea pop in my head but I've been in a _Dreadwing shouldn't have died _mood and this spawned. Hopefully in the next chapters the notes will be on top ^^ Please, Read and Review, I wont bite :3

**Disclaimer:**

All characters belong to Hasbro.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: Alright, this is a pretty long chapter that ties in with my other story, A Story of Hope, which I posted the first few chapters to. If you want to get to know the character, you can read it but it is not a necessity to read it._

_To be honest, the more I write of this, the more I love this story and I am having a **LOT **of fun writing it. _

_Read and Review please :3 I enjoy hearing your thoughts _

_Hope (c) Me_

_Dreadwing, Vehicons, Megatron, other Canon bots not listed (c) Hasbro_

_Enjoy :3_

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The urge to refuel made his fuel tanks twist in hunger, but Dreadwing ignored it for the most part, letting himself relax. He forced himself to roll to his side and the pain he felt lessened. He let out a deep vent of air, the draft causing the dirt beneath him to puff out in clouds. The ground was already dry from the heat of the desert sun and the warmth felt great on his armour. He let himself lie there for a short time, his frame settling to a somewhat limp position. Eventually the stick digging into his thigh became too much for him to ignore and he forced himself to roll to his belly. Twisting around, Dreadwing was forced to use his glossia to feel for the bottom of the stick. He ignored the disgust he felt at the act, but he managed to find the tip of the stick and sank his denta into it. He gave a small tug, grimacing in pain when the stick rubbed against a chafed area. He hissed loudly as he ripped it out from the spot it had dug itself into. Warm liquid suddenly trickled from the wound left behind along with the light scent of infection.

For a few moments the former warrior was confused, then Dreadwing realized he was bleeding and spat out the stick, returning to his leg to clean his wound. It was difficult to get to, being under the plates of armour, but he managed to remove the energon and administered a healthy dose of Insecticon saliva to it. He remembered reading that an Insecticons oral fluid contained multiple antihistamines, antibacterial and antiviral properties as well as healing catalysts. He ground his denta as the wound stung for a few minutes and he lied back on his side, dimming his optics in exhaustion. The desperate pain in his tanks kept him from recharging and eventually made him decide to search for energon. Reluctantly, he hauled himself up, wincing as he put weight on his leg. He pushed away the pain as he sucked in a large breath of air.

His sharp olfactory sensors detected a subtle scent of energon, fresh energon, unprocessed, unaltered, straight from an energon mine. He swallowed, feeling his mouth water. Blinking rapidly, broke his thoughts of gorging on energon crystals. Giving himself a good shake, Dreadwing forced himself to walk, following his nose and quickening his pace as the smell of energon became stronger. He paused at the edge of a small dropoff, watching the miner drones muddle about, taking energon crystals to carts only to disappear back into the mine. Dreadwing had never considered the miners very import, but now he knew they could be his lifeline, so he himself didn't have to enter the mine. After all, the mines the Decepticons had were just as dangerous as human mines. His optics focused on a nearby cart piled with energon and he knew he needed to go for that one.

Though the miners were mindless and couldn't aim well, any that escaped would report to Megatron of a rouge Insecticon, after all, if fired at Dreadwing knew he would defend himself. If that happened, Megatron would certainly post stronger Vehicons around his mines for protection and Dreadwing's chances of retrieving energon would drop drastically. Slowly, he made his way down the small path that led to the lower ground and once he reached the ground, the mech crouched low. His belly nearly scraped against the ground as he slunk towards the cart, his wound making the action difficult. Luckily the workers were busy elsewhere and he was able to creep to the cart without being spotted. Rearing temporarily on his hind legs, he grabbed several crystals in his mouth, struggling to keep them from falling out of his mouth as his mouth watered. He settled on all four legs once more and his throbbing leg stopped hurting so much. Lowering near the ground once more, he slunk away from the cart, retreating to the path that led back up to the overhang. He climbed the path slowly, his leg protesting the upward movement. He gripped the energon crystals tighter as his paws slid several times, sending little cascades of rocks and dirt down the path.

As he reached the top he heard one of the miners call out and glancing back, he spotted the drone pointing directly at him. He was too far away for the nearest drone to fire and he easily transformed, collected his quarry and fled, taking to the sky. Once he was sure he was far enough away, Dreadwing transformed once more a few feet above the ground and landed with a thud. His leg ached lightly but he ignored it and settled down beneath the shade of a tree. Pulling the largest energon crystal to him, he hesitantly crunched on it, relaxing as his denta went straight through it with a satisfying crack. He happily crunched on the crystal, the gnawing hunger deep within his tanks easing as he ate. He finished and realized the single crystal, though large, had essentially filled him up. His energy levels were balancing as his tanks began processing the energon and he no longer needed the other crystals. Still, it would be a waste to just leave them, so he buried them at the roots of the tree and marked the position by leaving deep claw marks in the trunk.

He thought back to the hunger he felt after consuming the processed energon and understood that the processed energon Megatron was giving to the Insecticons was not enough sustenance for them. It was enough to prevent them from offlining but the energon was not optimal. No wonder the creatures never really fought as well as they could have, they didn't have enough energon to burn. It wasn't the warlords fault though, not entirely. Processed energon could fuel a larger amount of Insecticons than passing out the precious crystals. He still felt a stab of sympathy for the creatures, knowing their pain. His systems sucked in air in a kind of yawn and he shook his helm to clear his groggy mind. It was the middle of the day and he needed to move farther away from the mine, just in case the Vehicons followed him. Standing slowly, he allowed his legs to readjust to his weight before stretching out the kinks in his joints. He shook himself again, disliking the feeling of mud clinging to his armour. He would have to remove it sometime but he could wait a little longer.

He started his trek again, not truly knowing where he was going. He allowed his paws and olfactory sensors to lead his wandering and when he came back to reality, he found himself in a canyon. His spark clenched; the canyon reminded him of the one Skyquake still wondered through. Then again most canyons looked exactly the same. A light breeze passed though the canyon, moaning softly as it wound its way though the canyon. It also brought forth a familiar scent. One he recognized but couldn't place fully. Huffing in annoyance, he followed the scent to a spot within the walls that expanded outward. Near a large opening in the wall lie a very limp form. At first he thought the form was dead, until he caught the soft weeping emitted from the form. Tipping his helm to the side, he approached cautiously.

The form continued its crying and Dreadwing discovered it was a femme, a young femme at that, with soft blue main armour and lavender minor armour. His optics widened as he remembered the form to be a youngling by the name of Hope. Other memories filtered through of watching the rain, speaking to, teaching and killing a mech, all with the femme. The little femme had been an important part of his life near his end, he remembered now. The memories had been lock within several files and Dreadwing briefly wondered why but figured his mind had more pressing matters to attend to after he woke.

He tried to approach the femme quietly, wondering why she was sobbing in the open, alone, he certainly taught her not to do such a thing, but at the last second, his paw struck a large rock and he yelped in pain. The femme jerked to a sitting position, tears staining her cheeks. A look of confusion passed over her face and Dreadwing placed his paw slowly to the ground. He gave out a soft growl, trying to show he was not here to harm her. She took it as something else entirely though, as her optics widened and she scrambled to her feet. She backed up rapidly as he took a step forward. He paused and tensed, growling lightly as she reached for the knife he had given her. Her chest rose and fell irregularly as panic set into her face and Dreadwing noticed the slight tremor of her opposing hand. A voice in the back of his mind scolded her for showing a sign of fear, as it went against one of the lessons he taught her, but he pushed it away. She was still probably distressed from whatever she wept about and whatever it was caused her great distress.

He let out another gentle growl, struggling and failing to form proper words with his vocalizor. The little femme panicked further and Dreadwing reluctantly took a step back, allowing her some space. Her tense doorwings relaxed subtly but she stilled continued to back up. Dreadwing's own nervousness swelled in his spark. She might be the only link to getting his brother back. He moved forward swiftly, only succeeding to spook the femme further. She backpedaled desperately and eventually transformed down to a car and fled with the screech of tires. Dreadwing stopped then and watched her retreat in a cloud of dust. He could have chased her down and captured her, forcing her to stay with him until he found a way to communicate with her but he knew that would only destroy her trust. He let her leave, and looked towards the cave she had been curled up near.

He entered the cave slowly, sniffing uneasily in an attempt to uncover any sources of danger. There was nothing, except for the stale scent of the femme, himself, at least in the entrance. He strode in several steps and was greeted by the sickening smell of decay and melted wires. He shook his helm to clear the scent from his sensors and followed the gut wrenching stink to the source. His entire frame stiffened in shock. His body lie before him, his wings and most of his frame crushed as if his body had been dropped, which knowing Megatron wasn't below him, and a gaping hole in his chest where his spark lied, seemed to mock him, laughing at the fact that he was killed instead of the traitorous Seeker. A shudder passed through him as a few fleeting memories of his death crossed his mind, the agony, his rage, his broken honor. He recoiled with an enraged growl, angry that his already shattered honor was broken further. Examining his broken body further, he realized the femme had attempted to return his honor by dragging it into the cave.

A cave that he remembered meeting her for the first time. How the femme had drug his body into the cave was unknown to him, as his frame dwarfed her. Gazing quietly dawn at his body for a few moments Dreadwing realized he now knew where his body was. It was impossible to return to it, and it made Dreadwing's energon boil in rage but at least he wasn't rotting in the open. Somebot still cared for his honor and he considered the possibility that Hope returned to the base directly. If she had been willing to help a dead mech's pride maybe she could help him with the situation. Dreadwing abandoned his body quickly and took in a deep breath once outside, hoping to catch the femme's scent. Her scent remained, strong and easy to follow. He glanced back one last time to the cave holding his body. He sent a silent prayer to Primus, begging the god to allow everything to work out, so that one day he could rejoin his brother on the other side.


	5. Chapter 4

_AN: Yay, another chapter :D I ran out of motivation temporarily just because I was so exhausted but I got it back. :3_

_Oh yeah and my attention has been divided with drawing :3 I drew Insecti-Dread check out my dA page to see it :3_

_Anyway, read and review, :3 I won't bite :3_

_Hope is my character_

_**Disclaimer:**_

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Dreadwing knew his brother would understand the abandonment of the cause, especially if roles were reversed. Stretching himself out, the mech felt his frame settle into place. His body ached to return to the floor and soak up the AC, but he ignored it. He needed to find Hope and attempt to communicate with her. Hopefully she would allow him an attempt to get his point across. Within the few days he resided at the base, Dreadwing learned her schedule, watching from afar. The Autobots were too busy to notice him and that made his job easier. He learned where she recharged, that she would retire to her room late at night and would start her day around this time.

Leaving the comfort of his room, Dreadwing hurried to Hope's room. He arrived as the young femme opened the door, fully terrifying the femme. She jumped back upon seeing him and backed up with wide optics. "Y-you're the Insecticon from just the other day... and the cave..." Dreadwing recalled the moment a few days prier, she spotted his hind leg as he squeezed out of view. He had peeked out at the femme a bit after, watching her blink and shack her helm as if persuading herself she hadn't seen it. He gazed at the femme,, pulling himself from his thoughts to focus on the femme's terrified face.

"Are you some type of ghost?" The femme finally sputtered out. Dreadwing paused, nearly shaking his helm immediately. Simple actions like a shake or nod of the helm were unintelligent and really not useful, still it was the only chance, so he grasped at it. Forcing the thoughts of such a simple way of communication, the mech swept his helm back and forth in drawn out movements. The young femme's optics popped in shock and she stared in shock. "C-can you understand me?" She whispered. Dreadwing followed the reply with a single nod and looking up at the young femme, he thought the femme was going to faint from surprise.

The young femme reached out slowly, and Dreadwing paused his movements, allowing the femme to gently rest her hand on his face. His optics dimmed as the femme tapped into his emotions and felt through them, not forcing her own onto him. Dreadwing honestly respected an empath held within their hands. They could drain a bot of all emotional energy, potentially killing the victim, or the empath could overwhelm the victim with such powerful emotions it would cause a systemwide crash. Few bots knew how to control their ability with such precision though, and usually it took years to perfect. Dreadwing remembered teaching her to use her ability as a weapon but it was up to Hope to practice with her ability. The young femme pulled away and gazed down at him in confusion, obviously she hadn't received a helpful reading.

"My, you're a confused creature huh?" The young femme asked, and brushed his cheek with her thumb. She pulled away and sat on her berth, watching him quietly. She gazed at him for only a second before she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Who are you?" She nearly hummed as the pair studied one another. Dreadwing took in a large breath and released it a heavy vent. He ignored the dirt and small rocks that exited at the action and he followed with an annoyed growl. The femme's optics widened in fear suddenly and Dreadwing blinked. He thought he made it clear he wasn't there to harm her, then again he wasn't the one facing down a Cybertronian creature easily larger then himself. His growl softened but her optics only widened further as he took a step forward. He took another step forward, forcing his growl to stop as he lowered his helm and tried to show his caring through his optics. The young femme took the action in an entirely different manner and in a sparkbeat, she bolted past him. Dreadwing's body reacted before his mind and he twisted around in a way he thought impossible for his frame and pounced on her.

They both hit the floor, nearly at the door, Dreadwing's claws preventing Hope from escape. The blue armoured mech was appalled to say the least at his reaction and in the back of his mind he wanted to release her, but she was the only one that could, or rather would, attempt to help him. The femme cried out in fear, the distressed sound finally working its way past her frozen vocalizor. She thrashed briefly in his grip and he reluctantly released her, and watched his only link to getting out of this mess flee from him. His shoulders slumped, or would have if they could, and he swiftly left the room. He knew the femme would tell the other members of the team of his presence. Even if Hope didn't they would inquire why she suddenly screamed. He returned to the room he was using silently, how an Insecticon could be so quiet on its peds was unknown to him but it made it easier to slip to his room without notice. When he entered the room he retreated to a corner and lied down with his back end towards the wall, waiting for the search group he was expecting to come.

As Dreadwing expected, a party did come, but he hadn't thought it to be the leader, Optimus Prime himself, or his trusty medic, Ratchet. Upon hear the whir of Prime's ion cannon entering the dark room, an aggressive growl worked itself through Dreadwing's tensed jaw. The Prime's weapon was pointed in his direction in a spark beat and Dreadwing's growl only deepened. Dreadwing had the advantage of 'night vision' and he could see the duo with crystal clarity, while Dreadwing assumed they were merely following the sound of his growls. He fell quiet and slowed his intakes, watching as the pair spread out, back to back, struggling to see beyond the glow of their optics. Dreadwing was confused for a few moments as they felt along the walls for something. He took the distraction and slunk towards the doorframe, knowing he only had a few precious seconds to leave the room at the door before they saw his shadow.

He wasn't expecting the lights to blaze on, temporarily shorting his own sensitive optics as he cried out in pain. He stumbled and staggered, shacking his helm desperately to clear his vision, all the while listening to whir of Optimus' cannon grow louder. The Insecticon mech barely had enough time to dodge the first shot, and when Prime fired his second, it struck him in the flank. The force knocked him off his feet and he hit the ground hard, but his armour was not critically damaged. Dreadwing underestimated the strength of the insect like creatures armour but now he was thankful for it. A snarl escaped him as Ratchet lunged for him, a slight glint of something in the medic's hand, before Dreadwing launched himself to his paws, out of the way of the medic. The medic nearly fell, catching himself at the last moment and Dreadwing nearly took a punch to the face from Optimus. Being distracted by Ratchet, the Insecticon mech hadn't noticed Optimus ditch his cannon for hand to hand combat, probably because the shot Dreadwing dodged left a smoldering hole in the wall.

Already panting ever so lightly from exertion, Dreadwing already knew he was outmatched. He wasn't entirely sure why Ratchet was here, fighting alongside Optimus, but he figured it had something to do with the sedative he now smelled. Dreadwing figured Optimus wanted him alive, probably to squeeze information out of him. The leader had no idea he couldn't speak in a tongue they could understand and Optimus was probably making an educated guess that he could speak English based upon the late Hardshell. It was a good guess but Insecticons weren't built with the ability.

In a split second, as his paws left the ground and he slammed to the floor, Dreadwing realized he allowed his thoughts to get away from him and he had been ignoring the battle. The shot to his flank and collision with the floor left Dreadwing winded and dazed for a few seconds and the medic took advantage of that, pouncing like a Predacon on a glitch mouse. Dreadwing emitted an enraged screech as something sharp sank into his unprotected upper arms with a sting. The rather undignified cry was ignored by the medic as Ratchet skillfully injected the sedative into Dreadwing, then was ungraciously flung away by Dreadwing, only administering about half the dose. Still, Dreadwing could feel it kicking in already and he couldn't fight his base programing to fight back any longer. Optimus lunged forward and the leader of the Autobots was met by a powerful paw-swipe. A ferocious growl left Dreadwing's lips as the sedative further weakened him and his base programing overrode caution. Dreadwing lurched to attack the large mech but he was met shortly by a fierce right hook to the side of the helm. The newly changed Insecticon crashed to the ground with a tremble of the base but he was already unconscious before he hit.


	6. Chapter 5

_Yay, another long chapter :3 Is it bad I enjoy making Dreadwing miserable :c Hopefully I'll be able to write some happy stuff if my muse allows. Bad, bad muse, making Dreads life harder than what it already is :c_

_Anyway, I hope you guys like this ^^ and hopefully within a couple chapters I'll be able to keep Hope to a minimum. I know most of you guys don't like OCs so I'm going to try and squeeze her out of the fiction, hopefully with only the occasional mention and stuff. _

_Okay, yeah that's getting pretty long so, read and reviews are welcome :3_

**_Disclaimer:_**

_Dreadwing, Ratchet, Optimus, any other Canon bot not mentioned/forgotten (c) Hasbro_

_Hope is my character_

* * *

Dreadwing woke with a strained groan and instinctively tried to get to his paws. A panic that was not his rose in his chest when he felt his paws restrained to a berth along with sensation of wires and other medical equipment. He emitted a distressed cry, writhing in a pitiful attempt to escape. He honestly had no idea _why_ he was freaking out so badly, but being on a medical berth, strapped down, cleared his mind of sentient thought as fear from the original Insecticon programing swept through him. He heard the footfalls of Ratchet but he spooked when he looked up, seeing an entirely different mech. A screech left him as he fought the restraints desperately and he struggled harder when the hands of the medic rested on him. He stared up at the medic, his optics seeing the twisted smile of a strange mech obviously bent on harming him. The knife in the mech's hand surged downward and Dreadwing shrieked again.

In another burst of fear, he lunged forward with such force it snapped the bonds, ripped out the medical equipment wires and sent him and the mech crashing to the floor. He let out a vicious snarl in the mech's face and bolted forward, swiftly cut off from escape by Optimus Prime and several of the other team members. He didn't see them as they were though, he saw the mech's accomplices, covered in _his _energon with the same twisted, energon thirsty smile held by the medic. He emitted another fierce growl, backing away as the mechs came closer and the mech that was Ratchet stood. His forearms throbbed along with his helm but the unease he felt overrode pain brought on by the sudden tearing of wires from his frame.. He feigned a charge, hoping to intimidate the group but was only met by the aggressive whirs of various cannons. Dreadwing continued to back up, eventually pressing into a berth. Unable to go any further, his instincts kicked in and he threatened the group with a snarl. "Stop it! Please!" A voice called suddenly.

The voice, he recognized it. It was familiar, grounding. His optics flickered in the direction of the source and he was able to see Hope clearly through the muddled mess of the mechs. He wasn't sure exactly why he could see her clearly but for some reason his mind relaxed at her voice. The gentleness held within was soothing and was able to bring him slowly out of this madness. The sounds of charged cannons lessened as the femme bolted towards the group. He watched unmoving as the young femme bolted forward, attempting to reach him, only to be grabbed by Ratchet. The image of the sinister mech returned and a growl escaped him. His body tensed seeing and hearing the cannons charge up once more and he tried to intimidate them with another ferocious growl. Hope glanced at him with a panic in her optics and tore herself away from the medic, only to be grabbed again by him. "No Hope, it's not safe. It's wild and I shouldn't have put it in here." Dreadwing shook his helm, struggling to shake of the visions, even his voice sounded dark and almost sickening.

"Please, he's just scared." The begging in the young femme's voice caused Dreadwing to temporarily break from his altered state of mind and focus on the femme. Ratchet hesitated and released her and Dreadwing blinked in relief, only to have the intense vision return. He shook his helm desperately as panic set in once more and he scoured the group for ways of escape. The movement caught his optics and his gaze settled upon the young femme approaching him. Nearly falling over in shock he watched helplessly as the femme flickered between one with a sadistic smile and energon splattered across her face to her normal appearance. The dread continued to grow as the image of the femme with the sadistic smile became more prominent. His bubble of nerves was about to pop in a whirlwind of attack, until the femme rested a hand tenderly upon his face.

In a split second, with the femme's touch and her gentle pulse of soothing energy, his emotions came crashing down. He couldn't keep himself standing as the weight of emotion struck him, and he crumpled to the floor, gasping heavily. The young femme looked at him in surprise and crouched beside him, murmuring something to him tenderly. The images of the twisted mechs began to fade slowly, revealing several completely sane mechs and leaving Dreadwing with a helm swimming in confusion. Hope looked up to Ratchet as the rational medic approached , gazing at him with the same confusion Dreadwing held. Completely drained and still somewhat drowsy, Dreadwing rested his helm on the floor, his optics dimming to ease his upset tank. "What happened to him?" Hope's voice drifted to him slowly as her small fingers traced his cheek. "I'm not entirely sure." Ratchet replied swiftly and Dreadwing twitched weakly at the mech's touch on his flank. "It appears he might have been suffering side effects from the sedative. He'll probably have to sleep off whatever else is in his systems." The medic added calmly. "Poor thing..." Hope murmured and Dreadwing barely caught her reply as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

* * *

Something soft brushing against his armour woke Dreadwing from his recharge, and very slowly, his optics onlined. He still felt a little drowsy from the sedative Ratchet administered and exhausted by the resent advents. At least he was no longer hallucinating from the medication. His gaze flickered downward, to whatever covered him. He found himself draped by some sort of human material, soft, light and surprisingly pleasant against his armour and protoform. Briefly searching his CPU he found the material was what humans called fabric, most likely cotton blended with another material. Studying the fabric further he noticed the slight bumps shown by the cloth. Confused, he released a huff, blowing the fabric off him with the burst of air. He blinked quietly, examining the wires and various other medical structures connected to his frame. He was still covered in mud, but the wounds left by the previous wires and where the stick had sunk into were clean, though the wire lesions were scabbed over rather nastily.

He rested his helm back on the floor he lie on, enjoying the fact he had no restraints. He was surprised to be honest, that he was alone in the medical bay but Dreadwing also figured the team knew in his weakened state he posed little danger. Plus, even Dreadwing knew, Ratchet rarely left his post for long. As if to prove his theory, Dreadwing heard the medic enter the area and came to his side immediately, seeing as he was awake. Dreadwing watched as the medic rose an optic ridge questioningly, seeing the blanket blown to the side, but the mech merely folded it swiftly and placed it to the side. The medic began an exam, poking and prodding the sore areas of his frame while Dreadwing was forced to remain silent, fearing the wrath of the mech. "Primus you certainly did a number on yourself." The medic's voice surprised Dreadwing and he gazed up at the white mech while the white mech studied the scabs left by the connections.

A soft hiss escaped his vocalizor as the medic gripped his forearm in the wounded spot and extended it to full length, Ratchet of course ignored his sound of protest. Ratchet proceeded to spread open his claws as well, analyzing the thinner, curved metal. A yelp left his lips as Ratchet took one of the claws and wrenched it back into place, most likely warped from his panicked movements before. Once again the medic ignored his cry of pain and repeated the process on the other legs. Thankfully, only a few other claws were bent out of place and his legs didn't seem to have damage to the struts. Dreadwing huffed in relief as Ratchet disconnected the wires from his frame and left to do something, while Dreadwing was able to enjoy some peace, only for a short while. Ratchet returned and stared at him with a piercing gaze only a medic could hold. "Get up." He said firmly and when Dreadwing made no move to do so, the mech huffed in annoyance. "Okay, whoever Hope thinks you are, you have fully functional limbs and other systems. If you do not get up on your own, I will _make_ you get up." The Insecticon mech looked back at the annoyed medic, meeting Ratchet's irked expression with one similar to, _I'd like to see you try._

Dreadwing honestly couldn't help looking back in such a way, he was feeling rather cheerful despite his serious nature. His look only irritated the medic further and Ratchet swiftly came to him. Dreadwing blinked in surprise as the medic grabbed his flanks and hauled him up to his feet. Standing on all four legs, Dreadwing glanced back at the mech. The medic had a smug look upon his faceplates, as if to say, _I told you I would_. Huffing lightly at being beaten as his game, Dreadwing shifted so he stood in a balanced position and gazed at the medic. Ratchet motioned forward. "Walk, or so help me Primus I will make you do as I say, _again_." Dreadwing was tempted to resist the mech, to remain still and dig his claws into the floor when the medic tried to move him, but he decided against it. The mech was quite easily angered and handy with a wrench. Plus, Dreadwing's helm still hurt from Optimus' punch and the drug induced fight he had with mechs that were merely illusions.

Dreadwing took a step forward, thankful his mind was no longer clouded by sedatives and that he was able to walk without stumbling or falling over. Ratchet quickly walked in front of him, a clear order to follow him. Albeit reluctant, Dreadwing still followed him. He had no idea where Ratchet was going to take him, until they turned down a certain hallway. The duo was heading back to the room he was found in, why, Dreadwing was uncertain but he knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. His frame tensed as the medic halted before the door and waved his hand towards the inside of the room. Dreadwing nervously entered, feeling as his hackles were rising. The room was dark and tainted with the scent of Optimus and Ratchet, and still had the hole in the wall, but it remained somewhat familiar. As he wondered why Ratchet brought him here, the medic walked off to the side of the room. Dreadwing picked up a new scent then, something familiar, as he examined the hole in the wall. When he turned around he was met by the sight of the medic holding a rather large, metallic collar attached to very thick, strong chains.

A snarl escaped him as the mech approached with the collar, while the medic's expression was somewhat sympathetic. Dreadwing somehow backed himself into a corner and the growl he had deepened as the medic crossed the distance between them. He emitted a ferocious snarl through clenched denta as the formidable click of the collar snapped around his throat. "I'm sorry big guy, Optimus ordered it. We don't need an Insecticon running around the base at the moment." Dreadwing stared as Ratchet gave a rare sympathetic expression before pulling away. Dreadwing continued to watch dumbstruck, as the medic left slowly, not paying the changed Insecticon another glance. Dreadwing swallowed slightly, and stared at the chain connecting him to the wall numbly. He blinked as his frame slid to the floor until his belly pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor and he continued to stare at the chain, wondering why he felt so, _broken_.


	7. Chapter 6

_AN: Pfff... I finally found the motivation to post the next chapter. I enjoyed writing this one and the next is taking longer than expected, as I've been having trouble making it sound right._

_I know I said I would try to ease Hope out of this and I'm trying to as much as I can, so hopefully by the eighth or ninth chappy she should be out of the main plot except with minor mentions._

_Oh yes, this is something I've forgotten to add in previous chapter. Feel free to alert me to any error. I won't bite your head off so long as your gentle :3 but just tell me if something's wrong with the writing, like a repeated comma, repeated period, the occasional repeated sentence, etc. I'm on here not just to show others my work, I want to grow and learn just as much as you guys want to read my work :3 Please don't feel nervous about reviewing either. _

_Okay, need to wrap this up so to recap:_

_**Disclaimer:**_

_Transformers, Dreadwing, Optimus, Ratchet, any other Canon I missed (c) Hasbro_

_Hope is my character. and she turned four today along with my story **A Story of Hope**, which is also mine._

* * *

He jerked awake suddenly, jumping to his feet seconds afterward and causing the little femme crouching near him to fall back in surprise. For the third day in a row, Dreadwing was left standing completely terrified, gasping heavily to cool his overheated systems and wondering what was hidden in his dreams to make them so nerve racking. He _knew _he was having a recurring dream that shook him to the core but everyday when he woke, he would forget the occurrences in his dream. He stood for a few more moments, allowing his frame to calm and cool down while Hope watched him quietly. When his intakes returned to normal, Dreadwing lied down again, resting softly on his belly as he gazed back at Hope. The young femme had recovered from her surprise and sat herself up, studying him quietly as she nudged the energon cube closer to him.

She had been a near constant presence in his life the few days following his imprisonment withing the four walls of the room he was discovered in. Everyday the little femme would bring energon for him, and everyday he would refuse it. He knew it wouldn't keep him refueled for long, being a lower grade energon, and he honestly, just didn't want it. He was miserable being chained to the wall and it seemed as if everyday he woke the chain was shortening. He felt like nothing more than an animal trapped within a cage, alone and unable to do really anything. He often wondered why Primus brought him back from the dead, then rubbed it in his face that all the Autobot, and Decepticons, considered him as some sort of wild, unintellectual _animal_. To top it all off, he was still hurting and covered with mud. Primus really knew how to make his life horrible.

With a heavy sigh, Dreadwing rested his helm on the floor as he rolled to his side, staring intently at the wall. He ignored the gentle strokes of Hope's fingers on his side as he let his thoughts wander. Ratchet's voice from the doorway made him lift his helm briefly, but seeing as Ratchet wasn't talking to him, he rested his helm back against the floor. Hope left his side with a soft goodbye and Ratchet approached to examine him, as the medic did every day. Dreadwing lied limply as the medic inspected his healing wounds and made sure his energy levels were normal. "You've certainly been quiet since the last couple days." Ratchet commented, breaking Dreadwing's thoughts. The Insecticon lifted his helm to eye the medic then placed it back where it was on the floor. His optics dimmed slightly as the medic deepened his inspection, listening to Dreadwing's intakes and listening to his sparkbeat. "Well, you're healthy, but for some reason you're quiet. Interesting..." the medic paused in thought. "What am I saying? You're just an Insecticon. You probably can't understand me and have no idea what I'm saying."

An angry growl escaped Dreadwing at the comment and he raised his helm to glare at the mech. He might have been feeling like scrap at the moment but he was determined to protect his remaining pride. Ratchet blinked in surprise at his aggression and he tipped his helm to the side. "Do you understand me?" The mech questioned, earning an exacerbated huff and a nod. The medic's optics widened subtly and he rested on his knee to study Dreadwing. Dreadwing in turn pulled himself to his belly and looked back into the knowledgeable optics. "Interesting." Ratchet broke the mounting silence and his optics narrowed lightly. "It seems Hope's statements are correct, you can understand us. Can you speak?" Dreadwing shook his helm and watched the medic tap his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you aren't as mindless as we once thought. Optimus would like to know of this." The medic shifted and took a cube of energon from his subspace. "This should keep your energy levels normal for a while. It's a high grade, the closest thing we can get to the energon crystals, what you _really_ should be consuming."

Dreadwing sniffed the cube as Ratchet pushed it over to him. It did smell like high grade, and he was tempted to refuse it, but Ratchet was right. His levels were low and needed restoring. If they ever released him from the chains and allowed him to come and go as he pleased, he would return to his stash, perhaps showing the Autobots were a few mines were, but for now, the high grade would do to replenish his stores. He eyed the medic quietly, disliking the idea of refueling with another bot watching. Ratchet seemed to understand and he left the mech in peace. With a heavy sigh Dreadwing gazed at the energon. He still didn't really _want_ to refuel but, he persuaded himself to. Primus must have brought him back for _some_ reason, so he decided he could stay a little while longer. He pulled the cube to him with his large claws and lapped at the energon slowly. It certainly tasted nothing like the Decepticons manufactured but then again the Autobots didn't have the extensive mining operations that the Decepticons had.

Despite the taste, it still steadied his energy levels and gave his drained frame a boost. He had enjoyed high grade before, never as much as his brother though, and certainly never enough to become overenergized. That was Skyquake's job, to act like a youngling while drinking high grade. Dreadwing heaved a sigh, pushing away the empty cube. He was beginning to miss his twin, and the more time he spent alone, the more his thoughts wandered to his brother. He desperately hoped this mess would be straightened out soon and Ratchet could discover his real identity. He wanted his brother back and every day that passed without him made Dreadwing become even more lonely. Shaking his helm to clear his thoughts and the tears that threatened to fall, Dreadwing cleaned off his face with his paws once more and rested his helm on the floor quietly. Hopefully Ratchet could come up with some way to change him back, or at least get his brother out of the Shadowzone. He could take care of everything else if Skyquake was removed, and maybe he could get revenge for Starscream's actions. Optics flickering to the empty cube, Dreadwing could only hope everything worked out.

Dreadwing tugged desperately at the chain connecting him to the wall, keeping him from the freedom he craved. He shook and the collar rubbed against his already chaffed neck. He growled softly and he continued to pace, panting heavily. He wanted _out_. He wanted out of this collar and the room. The nightmares were worsening to the point he _was _remembering them and after dreaming what he was, he didn't _want _to remember. The tortures hidden within them were horrid, and he wouldn't inflict them upon Starscream. He didn't know why he was dreaming so much but to be honest, he wasn't sure they were dreams. They were much to graphic and detailed. There was a chance that the 'dreams' were actually memories, perhaps from the Insecticon's processor. Either way, Dreadwing couldn't recharge without the sickening images flaring through his subconscious. Dreadwing lurched forward again, a new sense of unease coursing through him. He did nothing to damage the chains, and it worsened his nerves. His fighting increased and he emitted distressed cries, struggling against the chain.

His claws only scrapped the thick metal and his bite put light denta impressions in it, despite being more powerful than his previous form. His struggles only further exhausted him but he was determined to be released from his bonds. Pausing to let his heated body cool, Dreadwing took a moment to think clearly and reign in his emotions. He wasn't going to get anywhere by just purely panicking, but he could use the boost of strength to his advantage. Gripping the chain within his powerful maw, Dreadwing gave the chain a little slack, then reared back violently, hoping to tear it from the wall. It didn't work completely as planned, but he could hear the chain groan in protest. He landed on his front paws with a fierce thud and tightened his grip on the chain. He repeated the process several more times, until finally the chain snapped and Dreadwing tumbled backwards, falling painfully on his back. He rolled over to his belly, thankful he was already on the ground because he was sure he'd collapse from the relief he felt.

Dreadwing flopped over and let his body cool down, thankful that he was finally _free_. His optics landed briefly on the door and he wondered if it was locked. Not that he really wanted to leave the room, he was perfectly comfortable within it, he just had to get the chain _off_, or at least so that he was no longer forced to stay in a restricted place. He was free to move about the room, though he was unsure if Ratchet or Optimus would be as content as he was. Dreadwing rolled over to his other side suddenly and wriggled against the floor, scratching an itch and successfully removing small chunks of dirt from his armour. He rested on that side for a short time, before repeating on his other side. The dirt beneath his armour was aggravating his protoform and him. He yearned to be clean, and apparently his body did as well, but he could no longer clean himself fully.

Dreadwing took in a sharp intake as he stretched out, his body no longer aching as it once had. The scabs still ached a little but his helm and stick wound no longer bothered him. He slowly stood and shook himself, ridding himself of some of the loose dirt covering his frame. It released his armour in a small cloud and Dreadwing watched the cloud disperse. He didn't know why, but for some reason he was in a good mood, despite lacking proper recharge. He guessed being chained had something to do with it and he thought back to when he was a true Cybertronian. That form most likely would despise what he had to do now on a daily basis, like drinking energon by lapping it up like a dog, or cleaning his face using his front paws, but he'd become accustomed to the actions. He still didn't like doing those things all that much, but it meant survival, and his survival meant he might be able to see his brother again.

His helm turned in the direction of the door as it opened and the shocked expressions of Ratchet and Optimus met him. They approached cautiously, obviously thinking a repeat of their first encounter would happen, but Dreadwing showed no aggression towards them, as they showed no aggression towards them. Dreading couldn't help but to tip his helm to the side curiously as he sat down, watching the two Autobots. Optimus approached and inspected the break. "He certainly has intelligence, or dumb luck." The leader commented and looked up to Ratchet. The medic responded with a nod. "He seems to be so, and he can understand us, as I told you before, when very few other Insecticons can." The white medic paused to study Dreadwing. "He is certainly different from the other Insecticons." Optimus nodded in agreement at Ratchet's statements and rested his mighty hand upon Dreadwing's flank. Dreadwing couldn't stop himself from tensing at the Autobot leader's touch. The Insecticon could _feel _the power Optimus held within his frame just by the tactile contact.

Optimus moved his hand away slowly and Dreadwing could see the curiosity in the Prime's optics. "Ratchet, have you noticed his armour is blue?" Ratchet looked just as surprised as Dreadwing, and even Dreadwing had to look at the armour that showed though a mud patch. "Interesting." The medic finally spoke and pulled away from a close inspection. "Rare for an Insecticon, but certainly not impossible..." Dreadwing could hear the cogs turning within the medic's voice and he saw the same look on Optimus' face. Dreadwing's sparkrate increased as the idea of them discovering his identity crossed his mind, after all if anyone could discover it Optimus would probably be the one, followed by Ratchet of course. Instead, his spark fell when the wise leader stood without the look of remembrance of the colour blue Dreadwing wore on his armour. "I believe he could prove useful with our hunt for energon." The leader's statement made Dreadwing stiffen and his jaw tensed.

The leader turned to Ratchet. "I would remove the collar Ratchet, it seems pointless to have one on him now that he's broken the chain and it seems as if it's bothering his protoform." The medic nodded firmly and Optimus left, leaving a shocked Dreadwing in his wake. Ratchet came to his side and removed the collar and Dreadwing offered a soft grunt of thanks. The medic patted his side and Dreadwing lied down quietly, staring at the floor. "You were expecting something else to happen weren't you?" Dreadwing jumped at the medic's question and he looked up at Ratchet quietly, then nodded. Ratchet chuckled. "He left in thought, believe me. I know him well and he's thinking of who, or what, you could be, seeing as the records show the Insecticon standing before me is dead." Dreadwing's helm reared back lightly as he blinked rapidly in surprise, his gaze sliding to the floor as he thought. He had no idea how Ratchet got a hold of the information but then again he was a medic. "You seemed shocked." The medic finally commented and Dreadwing pulled his gaze from the floor.

The medic let out a rare chuckle. "Your case has all of us stumped but we'll figure it eventually." The medic stopped and lifted and optical ridge. "I'll send Hope in here tomorrow to get you cleaned up." With that the medic left, and Dreadwing was left baffled. The Autobots were certainly more intelligent than what Starscream made them out to be, which Dreadwing knew that from years of experience, but it gave him a sliver of hope. Though it wouldn't matter much, it would still make his life easier. Lying down gently, the mech blinked, gazing at the ceiling and imagining the stars. He thanked Primus for a moment before his mind wandered to his brother. _I'm coming Skyquake, I'm coming for you._


	8. Chapter 7

_AN: Wow, I'm steadily making these chapters longer and longer. Sorry for the lag I posting, I ran into some personal problems and lost motivation. I finished chapter eight as well and I think you guys are going to like it._

_Read, Review, and Enjoy..._

_Dreadwing, Optimus and any other Canon bot (c) Hasbro_

_Hope belongs to me and hopefully she'll be out of future chapters for the most part ^^;_

_**I do not own Transformers**_

* * *

The 'shower' with Hope had been quite an adventure to say the least. The base didn't seem to have functioning wash-racks at the time, so Hope had to scrub him down by hand, with a bucket, rag and sponge. It wouldn't have been so bad, but the young femme had to _constantly_ rotate the water because it became murky rather quickly from the thick layer of mud. Near the end, the cleaning became easier for her, because his armour had less mud and she didn't have to replace the water as much, but she still had to avoid the sensitive scabbed wounds that had yet to heal. It had taken hours to clean off just the armour, and nearly as long to clean the protoform beneath it. Dreadwing didn't care that Hope took a long time to clean him, he was just glad to be _clean, _also happy to no longer be covered with dirt, mud and leaves. His mood had brightened exceptionally, increasing with the fact that the previous night he had a solid night of recharge. He felt great, for once in light sparked mood.

Dreadwing followed Hope back to his room quietly, allowing the young femme to 'escort' him back to the comfortable area by order of Optimus. Thankfully drying off didn't take as long as cleaning him, with the help of a towel, and the armour on his back, warped by lightning, was fixed by Ratchet. It no longer pinched the protoform of his back and allowed more fluid movement in his walk and other actions. The rest of his wounds were healing well, though they still bothered him occasionally but he knew it was good they were healing and had yet to become infected. Then again, Ratchet had been keeping a close optic on them, making sure the cuts were cleaned often and medicating them when needed. The only worry Dreadwing held pertained to the nightmares that would most likely return sooner or later.

He ignored the thoughts and figured he could deal with his problem when he encountered it. Dreadwing entered his room, shocked to find it clean, with no dirt littering the floor and smelling of lemon cleaners. The cleaning irked him lightly, as he didn't want _his_ room frequented by other bots, with the exception of Ratchet and Optimus, but the expression on the white and blue mech's face as he finished cleaning a wall made up for the incursion, plus it was nice to have a clean room after being scrubbed down. The white mech, Smokescreen if his memory was correct, looked completely miffed, obviously being punished for something. The young mech finished cleaning the wall, removing the mop from the wall to allow it to rest at his side, with a delighted groan and wiped away some of the water on his face, giving Hope a lopsided smile. Dreadwing let the two chat and approached the large pile of blankets near the corner. He guessed Ratchet brought it in as some sort of a bed, and, after giving it thorough sniffing, Dreadwing accepted it, flopping down on the padded area. He watched Smokescreen and Hope leave, then allowed himself time to relax on his new bed.

His new recharging place wasn't as comfortable as a Cybertronian berth, as the berth had a memory foam like material built into it to support the needed areas, but at least he no longer had to lie on the floor. The pile of cloth was considerably warmer than the concrete that used to make up his resting place, and Dreadwing enjoyed the therapeutic like effect the extra bit of heat had on his frame. He never considered being an Insecticon amazing, but as of now, he was quite content and couldn't complain much about his current condition. He had his own room, his own bed, he could walk around his room and Ratchet gave him his energon when needed. He was comfortable in his new place surprisingly, though he still wished to be in his old frame. He might have a 'good' life at the moment, but he still wished to be _someone_, not looked at as some sort of giant _bug_. He had no respect as an Insecticon, and his pride was still shattered.

A sigh escaped him and he stared at the wall, wondering how he was ever going to get out of this mess. Even if the Autobots did discover his true name uncertainty was bound to follow. What happened after that? Dreadwing doubted the Autobots would kill him but they could drop him somewhere and leave him to rot like trash. He could not make himself return to the Decepticons. He would never return until he had the strength to kill Starscream and receive vengeance for Skyquake's death. The next few months would be long and doubtful while Dreadwing tried to discover his new meaning and exactly _why _Primus would choose to reincarnate him as an _Insecticon_. Out of all the Cybertronian creatures he could have been transformed into an Insecticon was possibly one of the worst. He could deal with a Vehicon, they were somewhat sentient and could at least _speak, _while he would have to relearn speech as an Insecticon. Then again, Primus could have really been an aft and placed him in a scraplet's frame. The blue clad Insecticon shuddered at the inclinations and forced his mind away from that topic.

He stood suddenly, and began pacing in annoyance near his bed. He needed something to do, some sort of activity to get his mind out of his thoughts. Though Dreadwing enjoyed his time at the Autobot base somewhat, he was _bored_. His intellectual mind needed stimulation and action to keep him from over-thinking things, plus his body was becoming a little stir crazy. He was tempted to tear into the walls, to sharpen his claws or maybe get attention, but he realized that wasn't the way to be noticed and his actions would only further complicate things. Instead, he continued his pacing and considered it good luck that he could move about his room, after all he had broken his chain just yesterday and Optimus agreed that chaining him was useless.

With a groan Dreadwing flopped back onto his bed and stared at the melted hole in the wall, wondering just what he could do, or what his talent could be once the Autobots figured him out. He felt as if he had to prove himself, to show he was worth keeping around and to prove to himself he wasn't useless. He quietly wondered what Skyquake would do but couldn't think of anything. It scared him because he was beginning to lose the scraps of his bond that remained with his brother and he knew they would never return once lost. Forgetting his boredom, Dreadwing's shoulders slumped, his optics offlined after resting his helm on his paws, and he let his sorrow wash over him. He took a slow intake and recognized the fact he was alone in his world.


	9. Chapter 8

_AN: I think this is one of my favorite chapter, and yet again another long chapter XD _

_Don't have much more thought on this, my mine is kind of dead. _

_Dreadwing, Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Skyquake, Hardshell and any other Canon bot (c) Hasbro_

_Blackwater, Starling and any other OC (c) Me_

_Read, Review, and Enjoy :3_

_**I do not own Transformers**_

* * *

Dreadwing gazed at the night sky for a few moments, a sinking sadness welling deep inside. He glanced back at the Autobot base then looked forward once more, continuing his climb. He knew he shouldn't have snuck out of the base, especially at night, but he needed _out_. The suppression was getting to him and the only way to appease the growing claustrophobia was to flee the confines of the four walls. He felt better now, though his thoughts were dark and focused on his brother. He couldn't get the mech out of his helm, constantly wondering if Skyquake would ever return to the normal world. His spark ached for his brother, and his empty mind and body craved the warmth only his brother could provide. He was loosing the ability to recharge properly, added to the nightmares, and lately, Dreadwing had been completely sapped. His will was draining as the days ground on and he didn't know if he would ever get his hope back. Days had passed since Optimus allowed his freedom from the chains but he and Ratchet had yet to figure him out.

A soft breeze swept over him as he reached the top of the overhang he climbed. It wasn't too far from base and he could be found easily, but for now it gave him some privacy. He sat down, his optics fixed upon the sky as he enjoyed the peace of the night for a short time. Eventually he lied down and continued to watch the sky, studying the moon with critical optics and counting the stars to pass the time. Another breeze brought forth the scent of one of the Autobots, and Dreadwing considered going back for the night, but as of yet, he didn't want to return. He transformed into his insect form with ease, and took to the sky, hearing the shouts of the Autobot from far behind. Dreadwing ignored the Autobot, intent on evading capture for a short time, and resumed his flight, not heading in any particular direction. His mind wandered as he flew, thinking of how Skyquake would react to a situation like this for a short time before his thoughts became aimless.

His wings began to throb soon enough and he reluctantly landed in a small canyon, transforming as he did so. His claws dug into the soft earth as he passed a severely worn rock and lied down beneath its small overhang. Studying the dirt on his claws, Dreadwing detected the scent of something _familiar. _He was unsure of what it was but he ignored the smell, even though it tugged at the back of his Insecticon processor. Heaving a sigh, Dreadwing stared at the sky again, his drained frame beginning to yearn for recharge. He knew sleep would only bring more nightmares so he fought it as long as he could. Finally, the demand for recharge caused him to rest his helm down and his systems nearly crashed into power down. His sleep was peaceful for a while, but, as predicted, the nightmares returned and he slipped into a fitful recharge.

The sound of a vicious snarl awoke Dreadwing, after several times being repeated as the sleepy mech thought it just another part of a nightmare, and Dreadwing's optics onlined groggily. His visor covered optics focused on the enraged expression the Insecticon before him held, and Dreadwing instinctively got to his feet, though stumbling from still offline systems. He noticed the worn down rock was actually covered with claw marks, and he backed away from the enraged mech while his systems turned on and recalibrated, realizing the area he stood on was claimed by others. The larger mech Insecticon closed the distance between the two and growled in Dreadwing's face once more, showing his razor sharp denta while a small group of Insecticons watched from behind Dreadwing.

_"State your business, stranger."_ The mech finally hissed out and Dreadwing was stunned for a moment. He understood the mech, and his mind still struggled to comprehend the information. _"Please, __Blackwater, he is Fleet. I know he is. His colour might have changed but he remains the same."_ A femme's voice broke the stressed silence and Dreadwing and Blackwater looked over to see said femme approaching from the crowd._ "Silence Starling, he is not Fleet. He is some imposter, with the hide of Fleet, but he is not him. I would know my brother if he truly was brought back by Great One." _Blackwater glared at Dreadwing and Starling backed away, while Blackwater snarled once more after taking in a deep scent. _"He smells of the Autobots. The beings that have killed many of our kind. He smells of the one that felled Hardshell." _A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd at the mech's statement and Dreadwing knew instantly he was in deep, sensing the crowds blooming anger. The larger Insecticon circled him then forced Dreadwing to face him, growling as he pushed the smaller mech back. _"The scrapes on your throat prove you are not Fleet. My brother would never allow himself to be chained, and he would rather die trying to prevent it than let it happen." _Blackwater's helm lowered aggressively as he bared his denta. _"__I will show you what happens to trespassing __**pets**__."_

The next few seconds were a blur to Dreadwing as the larger mech lunged. Dreadwing slammed into the earth and Blackwater was shaking him by the throat like a ragdoll before his already dazed mind could react. The Insecticon programing deep within his mind took over and Dreadwing twisted violently out of the mech's death grip. He dodged the first swipe from the larger Insecticon and lashed back, scoring a blow to the side of the opposing mech's helm. Blackwater shook his helm angrily and glared at Dreadwing, before lurching forward in another powerful attack. Unskilled in fighting as an Insecticon would, Dreadwing was forced to follow his instincts, despite going against his ingrained style of learning the enemy, while his current fighting style was definitely showing his lack of knowledge in the Insecticon fighting world.

Powerful blows rained upon his frame, the ones Dreadwing was unable to dodge were the worse as Blackwater's intent intensified. His overheated frame made him pant as his instincts struggled to keep him from being killed and his uncoordinated moves caused him to stumble more than once, and also earned him severe slashes to his armour. In an unexpected move, the larger mech's helm collided with Dreadwing's and the blue mech was sent sprawling to his back. Sucking in heavily to force air through his winded intakes, Dreadwing instinctively rolled to his side, fighting through the severe stupor his mind was currently in. Dreadwing yowled as the large mech clamped down on the unprotected armour of his upper arm, Blackwater's denta sinking into the thick protoform easily. The smaller mech found himself suddenly flung away, landing in a heap, only to be grabbed by the back of the neck and shaken in an attempt to break his neck.

Luckily, the mech had clamped down on a chunk of Dreadwing's back armour and Blackwater tossed Dreadwing away when his attempt to kill failed. Gasping heavily as the pain set in, Dreadwing reclaimed control over his frame once more, pushing back his instincts and falling back on the style of fighting he understood. His previous 'plan' hadn't worked well and Dreadwing knew there was a need for change. Forcing himself up as, Dreadwing made himself watch collectively as the larger mech charged. Dreadwing readied himself and lunged forward, meeting the mech's size and brute strength with his own agility and cunning. Denta and claw blurred in a whirlwind of attack as Blackwater fought to kill and Dreadwing fought to live. The smaller mech took his courage back and fought with a new boost. Though still unskilled in fighting on all fours as an Insecticon would, he remained alive by using his smarts and landing any blow he could, even slicing the larger mech's inner thigh with the spike like projection on his helm. Despite the slight turn in his favour, Dreadwing was beginning to tire. The fresher bite on his left arm bled more than his right, progressively weakening the mech.

Another helmbutt to the helm from the opposing mech sent Dreadwing sprawling to his side, stunned and prone to attach. He gasped weakly, his frame plastered with energon and mud, while he watched the larger Insecticon approach with an intent to kill. Unable to move because of his confusion, the larger mech's jaws clamped down on Dreadwing's exposed throat, successfully cutting off the intakes that cooled Dreadwing's frame. Dreadwing stiffened, almost instantly feeling his body beginning to overheat but he focused on keeping himself from panicking by thinking of how he could escape. It only took a few more moments before he recovered from the previous attack and he lashed out suddenly, his powerful claws slashing through Blackwater's side armour, though it caused pain to flare through his arm. Still, his attack did its job and Blackwater released him with a roar of agony. Dreadwing forced himself up to his paws and bodyslammed Blackwater, causing the mech to stagger heavily. Dreadwing backed up, gulping in air to cool his frame as the mech recovered and snarled angrily at Dreadwing. Blackwater lunged, only to have lazorfire pepper his flank, earning a shriek of pain.

Dreadwing looked up in surprise, spotting the yellow and black armour of the Autobot scout, Bumblebee, if Dreadwing remembered the name correctly, perched atop a cliff, and Blackwater saw the young scout as well. The larger Insecticon glared between Dreadwing and Bumblebee, as if considering attack but he backed up, obviously knowing he was outmatched, chuffing loudly to his horde, telling them to retreat. The Insecticons of Blackwater's horde backed off, disappearing swiftly into crevices and small caves carved into the canyon walls at their leader's order, then was followed by Blackwater. Dreadwing's shoulders relaxed lightly and he looked back up to Bumblebee, as the yellow and black mech made his way down a small path on the rock face to Dreadwing. The scout's blasters were still whirring lowly, and his body was still tense, showing he was still ready to fire.

Completely drained and stressed, Dreadwing's leg gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the earth, still panting hard to cool his strained systems. Dimming his optics, he heard Bumblebee's cannons power down and the young scout let out a series of beeps and clicks. He understood the mech somehow, though he didn't pay much attention to him, as his main concern was not passing out at the moment. He was conserving his strength and energy by not responding to the mech, as well as keeping the ever present dizziness from overwhelming him, but that only seemed to worry the youthful mech. The yellow mech poked and prodded his flank repeatedly, earning an annoyed growl from Dreadwing. Bumblebee wisely let him be as Dreadwing rested his helm on his paws, in wait for 'backup' as the young bot called it. Once being a powerful Decepticon, Dreadwing was still rather unused to the term, as the Decepticons rarely gave it and his brother was usually at his side in a near unbeatable duo. Dreadwing fought a sigh and pushed the thought away. He was no longer a bot, he was an Insecticon.

His helm lifted weakly, optics onlining, as the whoosh of a groundbridge opening met his sensitive audios. He was met with the sight of a very displeased Optimus Prime and the normal grumpy expression of Ratchet. The medic came to his side immediately, ignoring the protests of Bumblebee, and began clamping off damaged or torn fuel lines. Dreadwing periodically gave off soft grunts of pain but for the most part, he ignored the throbbing in his arms, once more returning his face to the ground. He was spent, truly worn out from lack of recharge, lack of refueling and resent battle, with loss of energon. His optics were beginning to dim as the recharge he desperately wanted slithered its way though his consciousness. He was in the blissful half asleep state when Ratchet slapped his side roughly, jolting him from the dozing. He glared at the medic, and rested his helm back down, reluctantly fighting recharge.

The strike hadn't hurt much, it hurt a little since it hit a patch where Blackwater had struck, but it still wounded his pride minutely. It felt as if the medic had scolded him for something, as if he had been a sparkling caught stealing an energon treat. He nearly let out annoyed growls as Ratchet purposefully pinched wires that were unhurt, none that would severely damage him of course, but it still kept him awake and miffed him greatly. Dreadwing couldn't be entirely angry with the medic thought, as he knew Ratchet was truly looking out for his health, unlike a Decepticon medic who would merely slap on some welds to repair a bot then send them away, fully healed or not. The Autobots were truly compassionate to their troops in more ways than the Decepticons, and they had their own honor to them. Maybe this is what Primus wanted him to see, maybe the god wanted him to see the war and factions from an opposing view.

Dreadwing's thoughts were broken when Ratchet patted the Insecticons side, signaling for Dreadwing to get up. The blue mech gave a protesting growl, but was met by the pursed lips of Ratchet standing above him, and another motion of the medic's hand to stand. Reluctantly, Dreadwing stood, grimacing heavily at the searing pain in his upper arms. He guessed none of the medications Ratchet had would work properly on an Insecticon's form so he ignored his pain and toughed it out. Dreadwing ignored the disapproving expression plastered on Optimus' face and merely looked over as a groundbridge opened with the usual sound and swirling green colors. Bumblebee was the first to walk towards the bridge, and Prime swept his hand in the scouts direction, a clear order to follow. Dreadwing did so reluctantly, unsure of the punishment he would receive, though he doubted it would be horrid like a Decepticon's punishment. As soon as he entered the base, Dreadwing went to his room, ignoring all noise and looks he received as he traveled to his only place of comfort. Once in his room, he immediately collapsed on his bed, letting his drained frame to fall limp and relax. He barely had time to roll to his side before passing out into a dreamless recharge.


	10. Chapter 9

_AN: there is going to be mild gore in this chapter as a warning. _

* * *

"Dreadwing." The voice stirred said Insecticon from his recharge and his optics fluttered lightly, his mind refusing to awaken. "Dreadwing, wake, now." The voice became more demanding, in a powerful tone, and it took a few seconds to realize exactly who was speaking. Dreadwing's optics onlined forcefully, throwing his vision into a world of blurred colors and focusing weakly on the red and blue blob before him. Another few seconds passed and Dreadwing recognized that it had been Optimus speaking to him, and as Dreadwing's vision cleared, he knew Optimus was talking to him. Slowly, his gaze, rose to met the mighty leader's and a shudder passed through him, though he was unsure if it was just the sheer majesty of Optimus.

"Dreadwing, I do not know why you decided to leave the base, or why you avoided Smokescreen, but if you came here to join our ranks I will not stand for it. I will accept if you wish to join us, but I will not allow you to leave the base without proper leave or reason. I dislike saying this, but if you leave the base once more without informing Ratchet or I, we will not accept you back." Optimus' voice remained steady throughout his speech and Dreadwing watched his expression remain unchanging. Dreadwing's gaze eventually found itself locked with the floor and he felt Optimus shift beside him. "Dreadwing," The leader's voice was a hint gentler. "Do you understand me?" His question made Dreadwing tense in annoyance but he nodded quietly. He glanced at Optimus, watching the large mech give a curt nod before straightening to his full height, which Dreadwing normally wouldn't dislike but being wounded and towered above made the blue mech feel uneasy.

"Do you accept my offer to join the Autobots?" The leader asked lightly, and Dreadwing hesitated. He wanted to accept the invitation, to be welcomed into a new hive, but he was still an outsider. Blinking rapidly, Dreadwing was confused as to where the thought about the hive and being an outsider came from but his thought was broken when Optimus spoke. "I understand Dreadwing. I did not expect you to answer right now, and I will give you time to think it through. If you decide to remain neutral, I will grant you asylum here." Dreadwing looked to the mighty leader and gave him several clicks of thanks. The leader seemed to understand, and with another curt nod, the leader left Dreadwing to his own devises. Shoulders slumping slightly, Dreadwing rested his helm on the floor, relieved to be accepted once more. He didn't know why he felt that urge to be so badly, he guessed the Insecticon coding had something to do with it, but Dreadwing was finally able to relax. With a sharp release of his intakes, Dreadwing allowed himself to recharge, and that night his nightmares were just a little less terrifying, though the nights that followed weren't so lucky.

* * *

_"Catch that thing!" The voice's proximity to him only made the Insecticon increase his desperate pace to flee the chambers. He gasped heavily, struggling to ignore the searing pain in his left forearm as he bolted though the halls to get away. The lazorfire that peppered his back barely fazed him as the armour was thick there, but the other being were catching up quickly, and he had no idea how much longer his body could withstand the intense stress of the situation. Yelping in pain as he skid into a wall on his right flank, the Insecticon lurched forward to continue running, only to land on his face when his leg gave beneath him. Terror flared though him and he scrambled to get to his feet, but it was too late and the mechs chasing him surrounded him like predators to a kill. The Insecticon shrank as the leading mech approached, the very mech that had already caused the Insecticon so much pain. Rushing to escape the mech's touch, the Insecticon soon found himself slammed against the wall with a power that should not have been possessed by the smaller Cybertronian being. _

_ The Insecticon was dropped suddenly, surprising him, only to be hog tied roughly and hauled back to the room stained with his energon. Spark pounding fiercely, the Insecticon began thrashing as he was drug into the room, and the sickening scent of his own energon struck him. The mechs surrounding him laughed menacingly and threw the Insecticon to a berth he knew so very well. An ungodly screech escaped him as the four mechs untied the hog tie and strapped his arms to the berth. Chassis heaving in dread, the Insecticon watched the leader of the band approached smirking, twirling a knife in his grip. "Well, well, well, if it's not my favorite experiment. 753819, I still don't know why you refuse to give up, and join your brethren." The mech paused, motioning to a wall the Insecticon couldn't look at. A wall littered with the remains of his hivemates, torn limbs, frayed wires, rotting newly hatched and decapitated helms still dripping stagnant energon. Just the thought of it made the Insecticon's tanks churn and the leader knew it. _

_ "Still can't look at the wall hm?" The leader cooed, approaching the mech's side. "That's all right, let me help you." The leader gripped the Insecticon's helm and forced the large creature to face the body parts of his species. Distressed sounds escaped his vocalizor and the Insecticon managed to rip his face out of the leading mech's grip, fighting the urge to purge the small amount of energon from his tanks. The leader chuckled darkly and patted his cheek. "Don't worry mech, I'm not quite done playing with you, yet, so you won't be joining them." The leader leaned forward so that his face hovered inches away. The tip of his knife pressed lightly into the Insecticon's cheek and his optics widened as the leader trailed it down his face slowly, creating a line of energon. The malicious glimmer in the leader's optics shook the Insecticon to his very core. "Don't worry mech," The leader purred, while his followers edged closer, eager to see the show to follow. "I'm no where close to done with you." _

* * *

Dreadwing stirred groggily from his recharge and fever induced dream, struggling to keep his energon down. He already felt horrible enough from his wounds becoming infected and the dreams of torture the Insecticon endured made him feel even worse. He just wanted to sleep without the dreams for just one night, so he might feel a little bit better. Letting out a soft chuff, he rolled to his side in an attempt to help cool his body, though it made his arm sear in pain. Groaning lowly in discomfort, he rolled back to his belly and licked his exposed upper arms, though the taste of infection was not great, he knew this was the best remedy for the infection. His left side was more severe than his right, as the bite had been deeper, and Ratchet suspected the opposing mech had used some sort of mild venom with the bites, preventing a normally fast healing. Dreadwing honestly didn't care if the mech had used the scrap or not at the moment. Ratchet had attempted to help the large Insecticon by giving him antibiotics, but they had failed, effectively showing Dreadwing was on his own fighting the infection.

The medic suggested he get rest but Dreadwing hadn't recharged properly since he was escorted back to the base and since the infection set in, he hadn't refueled properly. On top of that the members of Team Prime seemed determined to invade the privacy of _his_ room when he truly wanted to just be left alone, further irritating the already grumpy mech. With another groan, Dreadwing flopped over, dimming his optics in an attempt to rest. The sound of footsteps not far off made his optics flutter back online and he gazed at the door, watching the medic enter. Ratchet approached slowly, attempting to keep his patient calm as he settled beside Dreadwing. He set a cube of medicated energon on the floor and Dreadwing simply stared at it, having no desire to ingest the horrible tasting liquid. Ratchet's gaze shifted to the ever spreading sickness on his left arm. "You know it would make you feel a little bit better." The medic muttered, pushing the cube closer to the wounded Insecticon.

Dreadwing pushed it away, wanting to tell him that, just like the past few times the medic gave him the energon, it wouldn't helped at all. The pain medications and stress reducers were to weak for his Insecticon systems, as the powerful metabolizing centers within his new body easily broke down the medicine and destroyed it, before it could take effect. Dreadwing knew the idea was simply to get him to ingest something, but with his churning tanks and drowsiness, he really wasn't up for it. Ratchet heaved an annoyed sigh when Dreadwing made no move to drink the energon, and inspected his bites a bit closer, his expression hardening. "It seems the infection is spreading, though it's not surprising as you were under severe stress the past few days, you haven't recharged fully and you have been refusing to refuel. I'm sorry I cannot help you Dreadwing, if I had the technology to make the medications I have now more potent, I would. Right now though, I do not and I apologize for the fact that you are on your own on this one." Ratchet paused and rested his hand on Dreadwing's flank. "Though I promise I will attempt everything in my power to help you."

Dreading chuffed weakly in thanks as the medic stood, though the medic could not understand his action. "I will return tomorrow." Ratchet spoke in a quipped tone before walking to the door, turning only shortly to say, "Please, try to rest, and get some energon into your systems." Dreadwing was slightly relieved when the medic left, allowing Dreadwing some peace. Intakes somewhat labored from his exhaustion, he eyed the energon, considering the possibility that it might make him feel a little better. Still, he was just so tired and wanted sleep, not energon. Swallowing to clear the foul taste in his mouth, Dreadwing found it uncomfortably dry. He stared at the energon for a few more moments, before pulling it to him with a loose grip. He lapped up the substance reluctantly, but only enough to moisten his mouth, before pushing it away. Already his upset tanks churned further and he shifted slightly, trying to make himself feel better. He swallowed once more and let his optics offline, trying to sleep despite his pain and nausea.

The rise and fall of his chest slowed as his body drifted into a blissful half conscious state, the closest Dreadwing could get to sleep at the moment. His sparkbeat gradually dropped to match his intakes and Dreadwing felt the tug of full unconsciousness, but his mind refused to give in to the urges his body had. The blue mech ignored the conflict between his mind and body, grateful that he could doze at the very least. He shifted on his belly, reluctantly pulling himself out of his sleep to clean his bite wounds once again. He tried to ignore the sickening oozing from his arms after licking them and left the bites alone, lying his helm on the floor. A soft groan escaped him as he tried to sleep, but he failed to doze as he had before. Reluctantly, he forced himself to his feet, fighting the moan of pain threatening to follow his standing while favoring both front legs. He didn't have the coordination at the moment to stand on his hind legs alone so he was forced to remain on all fours as he shifted his bed and moved around the blankets. Settling down on the plush objects once more, after he moved them to his liking, Dreadwing rested on his side, letting his optics dim in an attempt to coax his frame into recharge. Recharge didn't come though, and he tossed and turned through the night, unable to rest.

As the week passed, Dreadwing found himself growing steadily weaker. It started with a struggle to get to his feet, and continued until he could no longer stand on his own. The fever he had worsened as the infection spread and the Insecticon was having a difficult time fighting the infection. The Autobots still seemed curious about him, constantly intruding in his room but Dreadwing was beginning to loose his ability to care. He was weak, struggling against a force that could easily kill him, with no medical assistance and a waning will to live. He had yet to have another proper recharge and could no longer doze. He lost his appetite rather quickly, annoying Ratchet severely, but he couldn't keep the liquid down so he went without. However, no energon and little recharge left Dreadwing completely drained and barely able to keep himself online.

At the sound of his name, Dreadwing's optics fluttered online, focusing on the form of Ratchet. The medic was already at his side, inspecting his wounds and judging his reaction time. "How do you feel?" The medic questioned, prodding his wounds and watching him calmly. Dreadwing emitted a low groan in reply and let his optics dim. "Not good hm?" The medic murmured, resting a hand on his heaving flank. Dreadwing twitched lightly, feeling the mech's hand, but ignored it as his body continued to intake deeply and heavily, attempting to cool the rest of his overheated body. He let out a surprised chuff as Ratchet hauled the Insecticon to a sitting position, forcing a cube beneath his face. Dreadwing looked up at Ratchet weakly, a tad confused by the fact that the medic knew the last time he ate Dreadwing simply threw it back up. "Drink it." The medic ordered. "I know you doubt it, but I think it will help. I've been testing it and the medicine seems to be helping fight the infection." Glancing between Ratchet and a potential source of fuel, Dreadwing reluctantly drank, his optics dimming as he finished his energon.

Ratchet pulled away the empty cube and helped him lay down. "Rest..." The medic murmured and left him to have some peace. Dreadwing was thankful he left but he still felt sick, though as the minutes passed, he began to feel somewhat better. His churning tanks settled and his intakes eased as his internal temperature lowered from the medication infused energon. His body still throbbed though and he was beginning to get lonely, despite the constant intrusion of his room. Blinking blearily, Dreadwing realized he felt better with energon in his tanks, and the medicine was also causing him drowsiness. Shifting on his belly, Dreadwing rested his helm lightly on his front paws and let out a surprising yawn. His exhaustion was getting to him and he allowed himself to fall asleep, figuring he may not get another chance for a long while.

* * *

_AN: Wow, this took me a long time. I've had a bit of a motivation problem and this weekend I spent all weekend watching ALL three seasons of Transformers: Prime. I didn't do any writing this weekend but made up with today writing about two pages. I apologize for the long wait and the long chapter XD they just seem to get longer don't they? I was going to have this more graphic in the dream but I gave in to sleep and lost my motivation/idea to write it. I might get my mise back to write something like that or I may make just a oneshot for it. _

_Anyway, read and review please, as another person put it, reviews are like motivation gold. They really do help make writers feel better. _

_As you guys know, _

_Dreadwing, Optimus and Ratchet belong to Hasbro and so does Transformers. _


	11. Chapter 10

_AN/__**Warning**__: Insecticon torture ahead_

* * *

"Seems I've miscalculated the resistance of the infection..." Ratchet murmured, causing Dreadwing to look up weakly at the medic. The infection had been in remission from the medication, his right arm nearly healing completely, but it returned suddenly, with a vengeance. The previous sickness had mainly been restrained to his upper arms, where the bites were, but when it had returned, it spread up his shoulder and down nearly to his paw on his left arm, though on his right it had spread only a few inches. Still, the fierce fever, weakness and nauseousness returned as well and still threatened to kill him. He was currently sprawled on his flank, panting heavily to cool his severely stressed and overheated internals while Ratchet finished his inspection. "Seems I've mistaken healing for the bug going dormant." Ratchet muttered, prodding Dreadwing's left arm and earning a growl of pain. Dreadwing was tired right now, and really did not want to bother with Ratchet or his constant check ups. He wanted to be alone, to fight this thing in silence.

He emitted an undignified squawk as Ratchet sliced open the abscess on his left arm, successfully, but painfully, draining the swollen area of the bite. The stench of rotting protoform and infection hit Dreadwing, and his already churning tanks nearly sent his lunch spewing onto Ratchet's lap. The medic prepared to repeat the procedure on another abscess, but Dreadwing stopped him by dragging himself up and staggering away from the medic. The orange and white mech's expression hardened to anger as Dreadwing collapsed of the cool ground. "Fine." The medic grumped. "If you do not want medical attention, I'll leave you to rot." Dreadwing watched as the medic gathered his things roughly and left Dreadwing. Lowering his helm to the floor, Dreadwing instantly regretted shoving the medic away. In the time that he was ill Ratchet was the only mech that stayed at his side for long periods, and without him, Dreadwing was lonely. Groaning softly in annoyance, frustrated with himself, Dreadwing pawed gently at his face, trying to rub the exhaustion out of his optics.

It didn't really help his aching face but the movement helped keep the draining abscess open and though the liquid oozing from his arm made Dreadwing shudder, he knew it would help prevent the infection from returning in the same spot. He let out a low groan, venting his pain, exhaustion and mind numbing loneliness. The little that remained of the Insecticon's processor craved companionship, as the creatures were social by nature and few knew what would happen to an Insecticon separated from its hive, though Dreadwing was definitely feeling the stress. The intense loneliness coupled with the growing fever and lack of rest made Dreadwing feel even worse than when the infection first set in. He let out another low groan, shifting on the floor with a desperate want to cool down. He could feel the fever increasing and his nausea level increased as well. Forcing his optics offline, the mech rested on his flank and fought to get some recharge.

* * *

_A pain ridden screech left the Insecticon's vocalizor as the torturer slowly drug the knife's blade across his abdomen. The mech clutching the knife grinned evilly and his claws scrapped against the fresh wound sadistically, earning a yelp from the Insecticon. The torturer's claws sliced through the gash on the Insecticon's abdomen and the trapped Insecticon could do nothing as the mech shredded one of his internals and slowly drug it out with a gush of energon. The stench of the other dismantled Insecticons__' rotting corpses__ struck him and __a groan __of nausea __escaped him. Waves of dizziness struck him and the poor Insecticon shrieked again as the claws tore a larger gash in his stomach. Energon poured from the severe wounds at an alarming rate and, coupled with the reek of his energon and the corpses of felled Insecticons, created __a perfect sickening scent that easily caused the Insecticon to pass out. _

* * *

Dreadwing jolted awake, gasping raggedly in intense fear and startling Ratchet, who had been draining the abscesses on his arms. The medic barely had time to move before Dreadwing hauled himself to his claws and retched, forcing up everything within his tanks. The mech could hear Ratchet grunting in disgust as the partially digested energon splattered to the floor. Dreadwing panted heavily, standing exhaustively on his paws as he recovered from the intense vomiting. The stench in his dream remained imprinted in his memory, no matter how many times he shook his helm to rid himself of the stink. He felt Ratchet rest a hand gently on his flank and the Insecticon couldn't stop himself from looking at the medic weakly. "Are you all right?" Ratchet pressed, though Dreadwing could hear the medic's worry. The blue armoured Insecticon nodded feebly and forced his gaze away from his vomit, backing up weakly to lie back on the floor. His intakes slowed to normal as Ratchet inspected the exhausted mech then cleaned up Dreadwing's puke. The medic covered him with a thin sheet and patted Dreadwing's shoulder. "Rest up big guy, you need it. Thankfully your fever broke."

The medic stood and helped get him more comfortable before leaving the Insecticon to recharge. Dreadwing was confused a moment before he realized the medic spoke the truth. Though he was covered with coolant, his fever was much lower and much less draining. He had a little more energy and felt a little better without the stress of a heavy fever. He knew he wasn't finished battling the infection but he knew he had a higher chance of besting it now. The mech stretched out and intook deeply. He let his helm lie on the floor and his optics dimmed lightly. His body still ached and though Ratchet had drained the abscesses on his arms once more, they remained swollen and painful. Releasing a deep intake, Dreadwing shifted beneath the sheet Ratchet draped over him and steadily felt his mind drift into the bliss of half-consciousness.

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_Authors note: _

_Wow this took me a really long time to write and finish. I had computer troubles and nearly lost the first chunk of this chapter. I'm not really sure how this will continue so I'm sorry in advance if the next chapter takes a long time to be posted. I've been rather tired and rather weary of using my computer again so yeah. _

_Enjoy, read and review, oh yeah I have a poll that you can vote for the ending or chapter content too. I'll close it in a week, if anyone votes, and the first most popular vote will be the ending while the next most popular will be used in future chapters :3_

_Well, this is getting long, peace_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Transformers. All characters and Transformers (c) Hasbro_


	12. Chapter 11

_Authors note: Wow, I honestly though that this chapter would take me much longer than what it did. I got some motivation last night and I started typing up a storm. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope to add more of the kids' and Bots' opinions/interactions with Dreadwing. For now, enjoy and incredibly long frigging chapter that I enjoy for the most part. _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own Transformers_

_Hope IS (c) to ME_

_All other character belong to Hasbro_

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Dreadwing rolled lazily to his back, releasing a deep intake as he enjoyed the coolness brought from the fully functioning industrial strength air conditioner. Though his fever broke the previous day, the fever remained, not with as much force but he was still warm. He stretched his legs in the air, grimacing as the slowly healing abscesses broke open and oozed some sort of reeking puss sickeningly. With a low huff, he rolled back to his side, feeling better now that the fever was reduced, but he was still weak. The infection was still fighting his immune systems but at least he had an idea that he could beat this, and maybe figure everything else out. Dreadwing let himself relax while thinking of how he could possibly recover his brother, if the Autobots allowed him to take his brother out of the Shadowzone. He worried that the Autobots would try to kill them for a sparkbeat, then concurred that they would have killed him upon discovering his identity.

Huffing softly in boredom, Dreadwing let his thoughts wonder to how exactly the Autobots discovered his identity in the first place. Ratchet spoke of his Insecticon body being recorded as dead, so the team probably had access to the Decepticon death records, possibly updated records as well. Dreadwing also considered the fact that Optimus Prime was an intelligent mech and the last encounter the Prime had with Dreadwing, he was offering Dreadwing a place among the Autobots. On that note, Dreadwing was pretty certain he was one of the few bots with the blue and gold coloration he held. It would be easy for a mech such as Optimus to put the clues together.

With a sigh Dreadwing wondered if his brother would understand his reasons for allying with the Autobots. He didn't have to join, but, as an Insecticon, he was no longer welcomed in the Insecticon hives. He couldn't return to the Decepticons without being killed once more, after all if Optimus discovered he was still alive, Megatron could as well. Dreadwing knew he could not live on his own in his Insecticon form, he would suffer mental distress without his hive, and his Insecticon processor was beginning to register the members of Team Prime as his Hivemates.

Forcing his thoughts from the topic, Dreadwing felt a light rumble pass through his fuel tanks. He blinked in surprise, not expecting the sound, especially after vomiting so heavily the previous day. He thought that the fever would further prevent his hunger but he was proved wrong, but he really didn't want to rely on Ratchet to receive energon. Gritting his denta firmly, Dreadwing dug his claws into the floor and hauled himself up on his feet with his bad arm. He staggered heavily, groaning lowly as pain radiated through his arms then stood still for a moment, allowing the throbbing in his arms to ease before limping out of the comfort of his room to find energon. The pain he felt was intense but he refused to be dependent on anybot, especially if said bot was a medic. Ignoring the pain as much as he could, Dreadwing simply followed his olfactory sensors to the energon storage, instinctively staying low and in the shadows. He was sure Optimus wouldn't have a problem with leaving his room, but Dreadwing couldn't be too careful.

Dreadwing paused at the entrance to the room, finding yet to be processed raw energon. Blinking quickly, Dreadwing got over the surprise of finding the crystals and quickly, he grabbed one of the chunks, returning to his room as quickly as he could so he could refuel in relative quiet. Entering his room, he settled on his nest, crunching on the crystal contently while letting the rest of his body relax. He finished his meal and licked his claws clean before resting his chin on the soft blankets that made up his bed. He was drained yet again, and even the extra burst of energy from the crystal didn't reenergize him. His optics dimmed for a moment before brightening as Ratchet entered the room. "I see you've gotten yourself energon." The medic murmured, noticing the tiny shards of energon Dreadwing left behind between his arms. Dreadwing blinked in an uncaring manor and chuffed lowly to confirm his guess, shifting so that the medic could inspect him.

"You're doing better than before," Ratchet commented. "The fever is in a manageable range, you can stand up, your appetite has returned and your sparkrate and intakes are nearly normal. The infection is still there though, and it's still going to take a while for you to fight it off." Dreadwing listened halfheartedly, interested but the information was unimportant to him, as Dreadwing already knew most of it. The medic's face melted to an expression annoyance at Dreadwing's ignoring, and the mech pinched Dreadwing's arm painfully. Dreadwing let out an ungracious squawk and lurched to his feet, glaring at the medic while the medic gazed back with a smug expression. Dreadwing shook himself in annoyance and sat on his haunches, relieving some of the pain in his arms, eying the medic as he put away his tools, all except one. The Cybertronian version of a syringe was already filled with some sort of substance, and Ratchet approached slowly with it.

"I've been trying to alter our medications so you can use it and I think I've gotten somewhere." The medic spoke, kneeling beside Dreadwing and gently taking his arm. The blue Insecticon stiffened at Ratchet's grip and, for a sparkbeat, worried that he was trying to kill him, but Dreadwing swiftly shot down the idea with the simple fact that Ratchet could not harm his patients. A loud growl escaped Dreadwing's lips as the devise sank into his arm and some unknown concoction was injected into him. In just a few minutes Dreadwing could feel the medication kick in, and he guessed it was some sort of painkiller, maybe a fever reducer or antibiotic. Whatever it was, Dreadwing's frame began to relax onto his bed, his helm resting on the blankets. Ratchet's tensed shoulders relaxed and Dreadwing knew it eased the medic's stress to finally know he could help Dreadwing. The medic placed his syringe in his subspace and patted Dreadwing's shoulder. "Rest up big guy, you have medicine on your side now."

_The sound of tiny claws followed him as the little Insecticon bounded towards his mother. His mother turned her helm, a content gleam in her optics band as she watched him and his siblings scamper towards her. She lied on her side in greeting and the little mech was the first to greet his mother, nuzzling her cheek lovingly and chirping softly. The femme Insecticon replied with a purr as the rest of her litter clambered over her frame, waiting for the chance to be groomed. The little mech was the first to be groomed, and the first to tuck against her warm belly__as the rest of his siblings were cleaned and snuggled against their mother's side to settle for recharge. They were all hungry, but the little mech Insecticon knew his mother hadn't been able to hunt just yet, as the larger Insecticon mechs were being aggressive and not allowing the mother to find prey. Nuzzling his mothers side, he knew the rest of his siblings didn't care about being hungry. Much like him, they were just happy to toddle around their mother as they learned to walk and run. They were just happy to be with their mother. _

Dreadwing stirred from his recharge, surprised at the dream he had during the night. He was accustomed to the nightmares caused by heavy fever and stress, and the light dream was a good break. He wondered briefly if the dream proved that the infection in his arms was receding. Nearly a week had passed since his fever broke, and Ratchet first injected him with the medication, and quickly the injections became a morning routine. His systems were grateful for the boost and quickly became more productive in fighting the infection. Within that week, Dreadwing and Ratchet were relieved to see the sickening black coloration of his arms slowly returning to the normal color. His body could now fight off the sickness and it helped Dreadwing recover in a much more efficient way. He was still exhausted around the middle of the day but a nap or consumption of energon crystal, which Ratchet was kind enough to keep in stock for him, would rekindle his energy and he rested well. The pattern of morning medicine repeated for a few weeks and during that time Dreadwing healed almost fully.

On his both arms there would be scars, a constant reminder of what happened to him, though the left would be much more severe than the right. Dreadwing normally would care, if he was in his old frame, but now, Dreadwing didn't. It showed his strength, his determination and his refusal to roll over and die. It also remained as a remembrance that he still needed to learn much about the Insecticons and their culture. It also prompted him to acquire speech in his current form, especially since simple nods and shakes of the helms wouldn't get him far. Dreadwing was quite content to discover though; after all he always enjoyed learning, unlike his brother.

Drifting idly to his flank, Dreadwing waited for Ratchet to come to administer his shot. When the medic did not, Dreadwing reluctantly hauled himself up and lightly limped to the doorway. He cast a curious glance outside and chuffed lowly, wondering what was keeping him. He sat and waited a few more minutes before Dreadwing decided to follow the mech's scent, trailing it directly to the medic in the med-bay. The medic glanced over at him curiously, then a look of remembrance crossed his features and the medic came to him. Dreadwing studied the kneeling medic a moment, considering his own actions, and reluctantly let the mech pinch, poke and prod his arms in an inspection.

"The infection certainly seems to be clearing up for the most part." Ratchet began, inspecting Dreadwing's left arm a little more closely. "I believe I've found the proper formula to adapt almost any medication on hand to affect you as an Insecticon. I can't do anything about the scars though, that's out of my hands." The mech paused and noticed Dreadwing's curious expression. "I apologize for not coming to your room, but I believe that you will no longer need the injections. Plus, I have been seeking a solution to your inability to speak in the human tongue. Instead of trying to make you learn to speak in a way similar to human speech therapists, I have been following the idea that I might be able to download the information into your CPU, much in the same way Cybertronians do when they first arrive on this planet. My hope is that your neurons will take the leap and connect to the information in the proper way. This is all just an idea at the moment so it may take a while. Until then we will have to worry about we ask you."

Dreadwing listened to the medic intently, relieved to uncover Ratchet was working hard for him. It made him feel a little more like part of the team. He grimaced lightly upon smelling the native creatures, humans if he recalled correctly. In his old frame the stench of human wouldn't bother him but now with his olfactory sensors being so sensitive, they smelled quite nasty. His helm turned in the direction of squealing tires and three different vehicles stopped, ones he knew surprisingly well. His shoulders tensed as the girl with pink highlights lept from the green truck Dreadwing knew as Bulkhead, obviously angry as she questioned Ratchet as to why there was an Insecticon in the base. Her question went unanswered as the eldest mech human dismounted Arcee wearily, studying him with a calm but unsure expression, while the blue motorcycle transformed, her cerulean optics piercing Dreadwing. Bulkhead transformed as the youngest child opened the door slowly and hoped from Bumblebee's seat, the young scout crossing in front of the sparkling as soon as he was in his bipedal form.

"Ratchet, why is there an Insecticon in the base?" Arcee repeated the human femme's question as Dreadwing shifted to glare back at her, simply to unnerve her. "Why isn't it trying to attack us?" The eldest human added, looking quite uneased as the general emotion of the room grew awkward. Ratchet quirked an optic ridge and pierced his lips. "Are you sure you really want to know?" The crowd gave a unified nod and Ratchet rolled his optics in annoyance, heaving a sigh as he explained everything he knew, and his theories. Dreadwing watched the youngest sparkling peek from behind Bumblebee's leg to study Dreadwing in a way only a curious sparkling could hold. Thankfully the only sign showing Arcee's increased anger was her lips piercing while Jack seemed to comprehend. Halfway through the medic's speech Miko appeared to loose interest and appeared to grow further annoyed, as if the idea of an Insecticon coinciding with the Autobots bugged her fully. Bulkhead appeared only somewhat uneasy or bothered by the idea, but not as much as his partner, while Bumblebee simply looked curious, though weary.

_'Can he understand us?' _Bumblebee's question broke the team members' hateful concentration and they all looked to Ratchet expectantly. The medic nodded, knowing lying would not end well in the already stressed team and for the most part bots and humans alike seemed intrigued. "He can not speak though." Ratchet added, surprising the team. "That's good." Bulkhead grumbled and Arcee nodded in agreement adding on, "At least we don't have to listen to his Decepticon propaganda." Dreadwing barely retained his annoyed snarl, but he knew becoming angry would only worsen any potentially forming bonds. He took in a calming vent and watched as the bots reluctantly dispersed with their charges, all leaving the base to do something else, though Bumblebee seemed just as interested as his human. Dreadwing forced a heavy release vent and shifted on his paws. Though brief, the encounter with the humans showed he was not as easily accepted as once thought.

"I apologize for their uncertainty Dreadwing, I will speak to them about it in a day or so." The leader's voice nearly made Dreadwing jump as the blue Insecticon turned to face Optimus. "I will inform them that you are here to stay, and that you will fight with us. Unless you do not want to?" Optimus Prime looked down at Dreadwing calmly, and Dreadwing responded with a shake of the helm. It surprised Ratchet though Optimus looked like he already knew what Dreadwing's answer would be. "Will you fight with us Dreadwing?" Optimus questioned, receiving a nod of acceptance. The leader gave a rare smile. "Welcome to Team Prime, Dreadwing, though I know it does not mean much to you. I know the others seem as if they will always hate you, but I believe they will grow accustomed to your presence after some time." Dreadwing dipped his helm respectively to the leader as he returned to his work and the blue Insecticon looked up to watch Hope and Smokescreen return from a patrol. Maybe one of these days he could spend more time with her, but as of now, he was unwanted, so he returned to his room silently.

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_Oh and a side note, I'm not saying people smell bad, like sweaty armpit bad. I think the soaps and stuff that the kids would possibly use would be alien to Dreadwing and smell 'bad' only because he's not used to it. Not degrading my own species I promise XD_

_My poll for possible endings is still open if anyone is interested_


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